


Second Round

by fab_fan



Series: Drunk Words - Sober Thoughts [15]
Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, Family, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Light Angst, Long, Sex, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: Scylla’s eyes darted back and forth along the road, the paths, the expertly trimmed grass and the soaring colonial structures, desperate terrified wide blue eyes searching the darkness for a sign. A flash of blonde locks. A whisper of a lean frame. A hint of a strut. Baby blue eyes and a tiny half grin that reflected the light of the stars and drew her in, as cunningly seductive and longingly heartfelt as the celestial constellations, full of emotions and memories that promised Scylla everything vowed on their wedding day. Vowed when Raelle dropped to her knee with a ring. Vowed every day they spent together, figuring out how to be together and in love and happy.How to live.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Series: Drunk Words - Sober Thoughts [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755784
Comments: 28
Kudos: 186





	Second Round

**Author's Note:**

> You asked for this...well...you sort of demanded it...
> 
> Takes place AFTER Last Call.
> 
> Yep. We're here.

_Scylla shuffled into the warm home, stomping her boots lightly to knock off the faint dusting of snow that had powdered the walkway and painted her leather soles before slipping them off, shrugging her coat down her arms and depositing her keys in the tiny bowl near the door with a delicate clink. Sliding the thick wool from her shoulders and tugging the sleeves along her elbows and down over her wrists, she neatly hung her protection against the frigid chill next to the slightly oversized coat her wife bundled herself up in whenever the temperature dropped below the comfort of a normal Cession summer. A coat that, when Scylla sometimes would grab on a whim and toss on for a quick trip to the store or to step outside, Raelle’s eyes would light up with a glimmer of happiness that was followed by a smirk and deft hands tangling in Scylla’s hair as the younger witch told her how pretty she was in between kisses. She nudged her boots near the pair of sneakers and brown dress shoes piled off to the side and hefted her shoulder bag strap back in place, the papers inside crinkling slightly at the shift._

_She would need to look at these papers over the weekend. It would take a good couple of hours with no interruptions to have it all done by Monday, her self-imposed deadline._

_Which meant she would need to either hide away or be prepared to be locked to her desk for a day, alternating between checking theories and getting distracted by whatever her wife got up to when left to her own devices._

_Last time was an experiment in cookie baking brought on by a rather boisterous call with Byron that proved her wife was not a baker._

_The blonde made up for it later by cooking dinner and sheepishly offering to get Scylla’s favorite ice cream in penance._

_And pressing her down into their bed with nipping teeth and a soothing tongue after they locked the door and turned off the lights._

_She knew Raelle would leave her alone if asked, do everything she could to not bother Scylla when she requested space, but Scylla would rather take a few more hours to mark up the essays if it meant stealing kisses and laughing at dumb jokes that always made her smile no matter how corny or old they were._

_Or how many times Raelle hit on her like they weren’t married with a kid and jobs and a mortgage._

_Speaking of which, Scylla puttered into the living area, opening her mouth to call out for the blonde, wondering how her day at home alone with Henley had gone._

_She stopped as her eyes landed on the couch, her mouth closing in a soft grin._

_Spread out on the couch, eyes closed and breaths deep and steady, Raelle’s head was cushioned on the arm of the sofa, the inside of her bicep thrown haphazardly along the curve of her face as her other arm cradled precious cargo to her chest, palm splayed across their infant daughter’s back. A thumb sleepily rubbed back and forth, scrunching up the little blue cotton onesie, the necro symbol surrounded by miniature pentagrams displayed proudly on the soft material. Henley was curled up, little lashes covering her blue eyes from sight. Tiny fingers curled into her mama’s grey long sleeve shirt, holding on tight as she carefully rose and fell with each breath the older witch took, her own breaths seeming to be in time with her mother’s._

_Scylla let the bag drop from her shoulder to the floor, eyes growing heavy with a certain type of joy that gently plucked at her heart and felt like a warm blanket being draped over her wintery cold shoulders._

_This was her family._

_Eyes tender, the brunette quietly tip toed up to the couch, lowering into a crouch in the hushed quiet. Silently, she eased a hand forward, fingertips ghosting along her wife’s cheek, tracing the tilt of her jaw and the thin white scar from her childhood before trickling up and weaving a few strands of golden hair away from a smooth brow._

_The corner of Raelle’s eyes crinkled with a pinch, forehead scrunching as she twitched at the affectionate touch, “Scyl?”_

_“Hey,” Scylla whispered. “Naptime going well?”_

_“‘M awake.” Raelle mumbled, eyes still closed, “How’s work?”_

_She wasn’t awake. Not fully._

_“Good.” She ran the pad of her thumb over her temple, “Henley wear you out?”_

_Raelle hummed at the loving ministrations, “My wife did last night.”_

_A playfully roll of her eyes, “Losing your stamina in your old age?”_

_Raelle huffed, cracking her eyes open as her hold tightened imperceptibly against Henley’s back, securing her in place as she rolled a shoulder, “Have you met my wife? Wild as hell.”_

_Scylla quirked an impish eyebrow, “Better work on that, since she’s using you for sex.”_

_Raelle smirked lazily, “Mindblowing sex.”_

_“Eh.”_

_“Good enough to knock you up.” She dipped her chin toward the baby, “Even got proof.”_

_Scylla couldn’t help but lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Lucky night.”_

_“Lucky life.” Raelle lifted her head, catching her lips as she pulled away, “Can try for another kid later. I’ll do that thing you like with the thing.”_

_Scylla placed her hand on top of Raelle’s, lacing her fingers between her wife’s and wordlessly greeting her daughter, silently reveling in the feel of her, their little girl, so small yet so strong, “You’ll be asleep later.”_

_“‘M awake.” Raelle countered, a lazy drawl coating her words. “Real quick. Bet we can get a half hour, at least, before she wants you.”_

_Before Henley would wake up in the middle of the night, wanting her mom._

_“As sexy as your offer sounds when you’re barely able to keep your eyes open,” Scylla teased, “you’re not that quick, Collar.”_

_Not with the thing._

_Raelle lethargically reached out, snagging her collar and guiding her in for a wet meaningful kiss that left both of them breathless, “Ramshorn-Collar,” her eyes darkened with promises, “and I can be as fast or slow as you want, baby.”_

_A familiar burst of heat ignited low in her belly. She stared into deep blue eyes, the cloudiness of slumber long gone, a hint of love and desire swirling in the slivers of blue that seemed to change color the longer their gazes held, an endless sky switching from day to night, stormy with appreciative want and hungry adoration._

_Undeniable desire._

_“Goddess, I love you.” Raelle breathed out, palm snaking up to cup the back of her neck and tug her closer._

_Scylla ducked in, kissing her, luxuriating in the way Raelle’s fingers flexed and quivered as she gently bit down on her bottom lip, nibbling before flicking the tip of her tongue teasingly._

_They both froze as a little body moved._

_Breaking apart, the parents glanced down to see Henley slowly waking up, grip fisting harder around Raelle’s shirt as eyes that looked so much like Scylla’s fluttered open._

_Scylla felt her heart jump at the beautiful sight, “Hey, honey.”_

_Henley blinked at her blearily, nestling her face into Raelle’s sternum, a jumble of grumbles breathed into the cotton._

_Scylla gingerly stroked her back a few times before stretching up to smooth down the dark tufts of hair, “How long have you two been asleep?”_

_Raelle grasped the necro’s left arm, turning her wrist so she could look at the watch strapped there, “Not long. Fifteen minutes.”_

_Scylla nodded and caressed her child’s shoulders, “Go back to sleep, honey. Still have a few minutes for naptime.” She peeked up at Raelle, “I’ll come wake you in a few.”_

_Raelle held on to her arm, “Join us.”_

_Scylla gave her a look._

_Raelle scooted over, “Naptime is the best time. All the books say so.”_

_“All the books?”_

_She doubted they did. Or, if they did say that, it probably was meant for a different reason._

_A very different reason._

_But, goddess, did a nap sound good._

_Sleep sounded good._

_Raelle nodded, “Lay down with me.”_

_Scylla relented, her own eyes stinging with exhaustion that she had refused to let herself feel until the offer of a cozy cuddle with her wife was there right in front of her, patiently waiting, “A few minutes.” She really needed to get her work sorted and start on those essays for Monday, not to mention any of the hundred other things that always seemed to pop up and need attention._

_But, lying down next to Raelle, snuggled into her and being able to listen to the little breaths their baby took, see her pretty face slack without trouble from nightmares or anxiety while she slept, instead knowing her curious sharp mind was filled with happiness and love, sounded perfect._

_It all sounded perfect._

_Raelle scooted over a bit more as Scylla carefully crawled in beside her, the two barely fitting on the narrow cushions. Scylla twisted onto her side, pillowing her head against Raelle’s shoulder, hand joined with her lover’s on their daughter’s back._

_Raelle curled her arm around her, hugging her close and pressing a kiss to her crown as Scylla brushed her lips against the blonde’s throat._

_Scylla let her eyes close while the peaceful presence of her family in their home lulled her into a blissful contented tranquility._

_“I love you, too.”_

Anacostia slowly approached the large majestic oak tree, its long branches like a protective mother’s arms, cradling and sheltering from view the woman curled up beneath it, hidden from the cadets and soldiers roaming by, idly chatting, unaware of anything that had happened in the nearby building. 

Scylla Ramshorn-Collar sat pressed against the massive trunk, empty unseeing dull eyes staring straight ahead, oblivious to the crispness of the grass growing underneath and the bright morning sun shimmering across the land, causing diamonds to sparkle in the lakes and the buildings to shine like glistening beacons of power and prestige, elegance and grandeur.

All except the infirmary nearby.

Carefully picking her way to the younger woman’s side, Anacostia slowly lowered herself to the ground, letting her back rest against the hard chipped bark, ignoring the way her old knees creaked and her elbows groaned.

Scylla didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge her, simply kept staring forward.

Anacostia licked her lips, taking a deep breath as she mulled over her own thoughts. The words to say. 

What could she say?

“She forgot her keys.”

Anacostia’s mouth flickered with a confused frown as she glanced at Scylla.

Scylla, face blank, spoke steadily, but the former officer could see the hint of tears welling in her eyes, the sheen of abject absolute grief cast across her once vibrant blue orbs, “She always forgets her keys.”

Anacostia swallowed thickly.

“She comes back, though. She always comes back.” the faintest flinch of an eyelash, “She didn’t come back.”

Anacostia felt her chest seize. She willed herself to not give in to her own emotions. To stay calm. Collected. 

To be what her friend needed.

What this woman who had become family to her needed.

“I waited. She said she was going for a drive. She needed her keys. But, she didn’t come back.”

Anacostia felt her breath catch as Scylla finally turned to look at her.

Heartbreak.

Pure devastation lingered beneath a veneer of breakable brittle control, “She used to run every morning. When she still worked here. Still wore that damn uniform. She’d run with Glory to base. She knew every path. Every trail. Every shortcut. That fucking sprint of shame.” Her voice cracked, “We were staying at Glory’s.”

Raelle knew the quickest way to get to base on foot.

She knew how to get to the infirmary.

“I drove as fast as I could. I didn’t even stop at the guard gate. Kept going until I reached the infirmary. I ran down those halls. Again.”

_Scylla’s eyes darted back and forth along the road, the paths, the expertly trimmed grass and the soaring colonial structures, desperate terrified wide blue eyes searching the darkness for a sign. A flash of blonde locks. A whisper of a lean frame. A hint of a strut. Baby blue eyes and a tiny half grin that reflected the light of the stars and drew her in, as cunningly seductive and longingly heartfelt as the celestial constellations, full of emotions and memories that promised Scylla everything vowed on their wedding day. Vowed when Raelle dropped to her knee with a ring. Vowed every day they spent together, figuring out how to be together and in love and happy._

_How to live._

A trembling hand reached down beside her, plucking up a small silver engraved flask. She eyed it, unsteady fingers twisting the cap. She took a sip, pausing as the burning liquid fire coursed down her throat and into her belly, “Raelle likes moonshine. She had this at our wedding. Byron held on to it, but she got it back after...after.”

Anacostia exhaled softly, “You can’t do this to yourself, Scylla.”

Scylla’s mouth twitched, “Do what?” She dropped the flask, “Have a drink?” A sickenly grief stricken smirk twisted her lips, grotesque in its despair, “Last time you said that, I had to attend a funeral with my wife’s empty casket. Watch as everyone tried to bury her because no one gave a damn that they left her. That she was hurt and scared and alone. That she mattered.”

Anacostia’s head tilted at the reminding blow, “Henley…”

“Is fine.” Scylla rasped, her entire body trembling with the effort to not give in, to not cry, “Our daughter is fine.” 

Henley was awake. 

Confused. Disoriented. 

But awake.

“Have you…”

“I have spent every moment with my daughter.” Scylla bit out, the words a warning growl, “I have sat there and held her hand, telling her that everything is ok. That her family is ok.” Her eyes flashed with a deep anger that churned like molten fire ready to overtake any who dared stoke it, “I sat there _not_ telling her that the only reason she’s awake is because her mama saved her. That the army put her there because she’s just another body to them. That she should be dead. That…” her voice broke off, words crumbling as she inhaled sharply, pressing her lips together and turning her head away.

Anacostia watched her, “What Raelle did was brave.”

A wet choked scoff, “Of course it was.” Scylla’s gaze whipped back to her. “Because she’s brave. And stupid. And…”

“And she loves you.” Anacostia finished for her. “She loves Henley.”

A tear slipped down Scylla’s cheek.

“I held her in my arms.” Scylla whispered. “I held her as she...she was in so much pain.” Her teeth locked together, “I had to hold _my wife_ and feel the life leaving her. And Henley was there.”

Henley was there.

_Sprinting down the corridor, hair whipping behind her, Scylla collided with the door, ripping it open and darting inside_

_Desperate frantic eyes searched the room._

_Raelle had to be there._

_Where was she?_

_The sight before her sent a paralyzing chill down her spine, cold icy dread seeping into her bones, frozen tendrils of fear spreading along her arms and legs._

_The lone figure on the bed shifted, head turning._

_Henley?_

_Her eyes dropped to the floor, a flash of golden tendrils catching her sight._

_No._

_There._

_On the floor._

_Goddess, no._

_Legs and arms jumbled together like a rag doll tossed to the ground._

_Raelle._

_No._

_She didn’t feel the soldiers race past her. Barely heard her daughter call for her, the frantic mutterings of the fixers._

_Raelle was on the floor._

_She wasn’t moving._

_Oh goddess, she wasn’t moving._

_NO!_

_The inhumane scream tore from her lungs, not even registering in her ears, the cry wretched and heartstopping as it echoed in the room. Scylla dove to the ground, crawling to where Raelle lay._

_No. No. No._

_Collapsing next to her wife, trembling hands grasped at thin shoulders, wrapping around her and dragging her into her lap. She cradled her lover in her arms, quickly leaning over to tenderly hold her, stare at her face, search for those blue eyes that always made her feel ok whenever she saw them. She touched her hair, her cheek, her neck. Needing to feel her, sense her, help her._

_“Raelle.” she gasped, shaking so badly her fingertips could barely touch pale skin, her vision blurring with the aching sting of tears._

_Face twisted in agony, Raelle began to convulse, twitching violently as her muscles, so tense they seemed to be like glass, ready to shatter into millions of broken brittle pieces, seized at the agony burning in her bones._

_At the injuries she’d taken on, ripping and shredding her insides, clawing and cutting at her heart, her soul, every inch of her._

_“Raelle!” she desperately held on to her, pulling her closer, the blonde’s head lolling to the side, pressing against her chest. Scylla ran her hand along her jaw, dropping to rest over her heart, feeling the unsteady erratic beat beneath her palm._

_Raelle coughed harshly, red dots painting her pale lips, blood welling in the corner of her mouth._

_“No, no, no.” Scylla gasped._

_“Mom?” a groggy voice mumbled from behind her._

_Henley._

_Henley was awake._

_Oh, goddess, Henley was awake._

_Scylla’s voice cracked, rounding her shoulder to block Raelle from view, “Don’t look, Hen. It’s fine.”_

_It was fine._

Anacostia blinked back her own tears, doing everything she could to suppress the rush of emotions clawing at the back of her throat.

They both went quiet, nothing but the gentle hum of Fort Salem thrumming in their veins.

After a few moments, Scylla muttered, “She said she’d never leave me.”

_“Scyl?” Raelle murmured, face grimacing, corner of her mouth pinched in pain, body riddled in torturous hurt, succumbing to the unseen wounds tearing her apart from the inside, blood painting her lips, her chin, gurgling and slurring in her throat._

_“Raelle,” Scylla breathed out, pressing her forehead to her wife’s, caressing her cheek gently, “Raelle, baby, you’re ok. It’s ok.”_

_Raelle weakly cracked open her eyes, tiny bluish slits filled with pain hazily peering up at Scylla’s deep ocean orbs, “Hey...beautiful.”_

_Scylla choked on a trembling gulp, “You’re going to be ok.”_

_A sad quiver of her lips as her lashes slowly fluttered, words barely trickling out along with the blood dripping down to stain her shirt, “Prettiest...gal...round.”_

_“Raelle!” Scylla cupped her jaw, “Keep your eyes open.”_

_She had to stay awake._

_She had to keep those blue eyes open._

_Let Scylla keep seeing those blue eyes._

_Raelle coughed wetly, a sickly choked sound, “H-Hen?”_

_“Henley’s ok. She’s ok. You’re both ok.”_

_She could feel the shift in the invisible currents around them, could feel the unseeable flow of energy seeping out of her wife._

_Raelle’s eyes slid closed, “‘m sorry.”_

_“No,” Scylla dug her hand harder into her chest, the beat slowing, Raelle’s life force swirling up and around, coiling and drifting away, “No, no, no. Raelle. Raelle!”_

Anacostia looked at her.

“When we got married. She said she would never leave me.” The slightest quiver overtook her words, “She promised me. She promised that Henley would be ok. That we would figure it out together. No matter what.” Scylla gazed out into the distance, “This place took my parents. The army never cared about anyone. They killed them. They tried to take Henley.”

“You can’t think like this.” Anacostia cut in. “You have to focus on what you have. Raelle is…”

“Don’t.” 

Anacostia exhaled quietly, “Scylla,”

“She apologized!” Scylla let out, face breaking. “She apologized. She thought...she told me she loved me. When she left, she told me she loved me, and I didn’t say it back. She thought I didn’t love her anymore. She...”

“Raelle knew. She has always known that, Scylla. Even when you were kids.”

“She thought I hated her. That I blamed her.”

Anacostia stared at her gently, “Scylla,”

“I should go.” Scylla abruptly began to stand up, legs wobbling as she righted herself, “The fixers should be done checking up on Henley. I don’t want to leave her alone too long.” Visibly quaking fingers picked up the flask, jamming it in her coat pocket. She started to walk away, steps not as steady as they seemed at first glance, her hands shaking at her sides, chest heaving softly.

“You have to forgive yourself!” Anacostia called after her.

Scylla stopped, not turning around.

“What Raelle did was not your fault. She didn’t tell you. You got there as soon as you could. You couldn’t have stopped her from wanting to help Henley. Same as you couldn't have stopped the accident from happening in the first place. You need to accept it. What happened is not your fault. It’s not Henley’s fault. It’s not Raelle’s, either. Raelle loves you, and she loves Henley. She knows you love her. You can’t blame yourself.”

Scylla began walking again, “I know whose fault it is.”

* * *

_Too early._

_It was way too early._

_She was exhausted._

_Goddess, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired before._

_Her entire body felt awkward and heavy. She could barely lift her finger. It was as if someone was holding her down. Invisible hands pushing her into the bed._

_Henley groaned slowly as her senses gradually returned to her._

_What times was it?_

_She couldn’t hear a bell signaling class._

_Had she slept through?_

_Why did she feel so terrible?_

_She was so thirsty. Her throat was parched, like she hadn’t had anything to drink in forever._

_She needed some water._

_Trying to open her eyes, something clicked in her mind._

_This wasn’t her bed._

_The stiff mattress. The crinkly thin starched pillow._

_This wasn’t hers._

_She had a fluffier pillow._

_She felt the sheet wrapped around her legs and up to her waist._

_This wasn’t her quilt, a hand stitched monstrosity of warmth her mama had given her when she was still a little kid._

_Had she fallen asleep somewhere?_

_What was going on?_

_Finally cracking an eye open, she blinked rapidly, vision blurry._

_A loud crash and frantic voices caught her attention, and the young witch dazedly turned her head towards the sound._

_Squinting she could just make out hazy figures, people, ramming through a door and racing towards her._

_Was...was that her mom?_

_“Mom?” she whispered, coughing as her throat itched._

_The older brunette stumbled to a stop, eyes wide and full of tears as she met her gaze._

_Henley tried to offer her a smile, “Mom.” Why was her mom there? Was her mama there, too? Why would her parents be at base?_

_That’s when she saw the horror in her mom’s eyes._

_Frowning Henley tried to sit up. She grit her teeth at the effort, “Mom?”_

_Scylla didn’t respond._

_Henley followed her gaze as soldiers rushed past Scylla towards her._

_Wait._

_There was someone on the floor. Crumpled into an unmoving heap. A tangle of arms and legs and...blonde hair._

_Henley felt something squeeze her heart, “Mama?”_

_“Hey, lay back down.” one of the soldiers reached her, grasping her shoulders and guiding her back onto the bed, “Can you lay down for me?” Another soldier appeared, flashlight in hand, clicking it on and shining it in her eyes._

_“But…” Henley croaked._

_The soldiers blocked her view, smothering her as they fired off questions and felt for her pulse._

_Twisting her head, Henley caught a sliver between two of the fixers’ bodies. She saw her mom sprint forward, dropping to her knees and crawling to the prone figure. Tears were streaming down her face as she cradled the body in her arms._

_That’s when Henley recognized the ruffled blonde hair and blank face._

_Her mama._

_Her mama was on the ground._

_Not moving._

_“Mama?”_

_She struggled as hands pushed at her, “No...Mama? Mom?”_

_Green eyes appeared in front of her._

Henley’s eyes snapped open, and she pushed herself up, panic racing through her veins, scorching her blood with anxiety and chaos. Her mind tossed and tumbled, lungs gasping for air, throat closing fast and her body screaming to run. To help. To do something.

The memories played over and over in her head.

Arriving at training.

Excitement over what they were about to perform.

Noticing something wrong.

The explosion.

Seeing her parents.

Seeing her mama on the ground.

Her mom.

“Hey,” Allison spoke up, easing forward from where she was seated next to the bed. Large dark circles framed her glassy green eyes, her jacket rumpled and shirt untucked, uniform nowhere near inspection ready.

Henley didn’t say anything.

Her head swiveled around, searching for her family.

For her classmates.

For any of the phantoms living in her mind.

The images played over and over and over again.

They wouldn’t stop.

The explosion.

Her mama.

Her mom.

The soldiers yelling.

Everyone yelling.

“Henley,” Allison laid her hand on top of the brunette’s, the other curling around her jaw, the touch causing the younger girl to blink. “Calm down. You’re fine. You’re safe. I got you, Hen. I got you. I’m right here.”

Henley slowly looked up at the blaster, vision clearing.

The ghosts drifting away.

Allison offered her a short grin, “Hey, gorgeous.”

Henley swallowed thickly, licking her suddenly dry lips.

Allison squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb along her cheek, “Good morning. You missed Lt. Martins.”

Henley stared at her.

“All the docs said you are good to go. No lingering problems. Not even a scratch.” She pressed her lips together, pushing down the lump in her throat, “You’re ok.” Her green eyes peered into Henley’s, “You’re ok, Hen.”

“Tell me the truth.” rasped out. Her chest ached, and not from her injuries.

Goddess, it hurt.

Allison straightened her shoulders, all pretense at calm and casual gone. “What?”

“Did I kill my mama?”

For a brief moment, silence enveloped the room.

Then.

“What? No!” Allison scooted closer, “No.”

“Don’t lie to me. Please. Not about this.” Henley whimpered, tears in her gaze, “Please, Allison, not about this.”

The images were there. Burned in her skull like a torturous brand. Tattooed into her memory.

Her parents on the floor.

Her mama on the ground. 

Her mom running toward her.

“I’m not.” Allison angled her head, trying to catch broken blue eyes, “I would not lie about this. I swear.”

“I saw her. I saw Mom. They were…”

“Hen, hey.” She let go of her hand and gingerly cupped her face, “Look at me. I am telling you the truth. None of this is your fault. You didn’t hurt anyone. You didn’t do anything.”

“Mama…”

“I would tell you if something happened to her or your mom. I swear to the goddess, Hen.” Allison sniffed, her jaw quivering, “You saved people. You saved them. And, your mama...you didn’t kill her. You. Did. Not. Hurt. Her.”

“Mom says she’s fine but…”

She kept telling Henley she was fine. She held her and told her that her mama was ok.

“She is. You’re all fine.” Allison held her gaze, “I promise.”

It didn’t make sense.

“Then, where is she?” Henley sniffled, “Where’s my mama?”

* * *

_Scylla could feel the current of power whirling around them, tripping and twisting and slipping out of Raelle like the tide leaving shore, creeping in only to be rolled back, sucked into the churning waves of the sea. The rulers of the oceans denying the life force, teasing its touch before stealing it back with a ruthless rageful glee._

_Raelle was being torn away, dragged from them mercilessly._

_Back to the underworld._

_“Raelle.” Scylla rocked her gently, clutching at her shirt, her heart, willing it to start beating._

_To play the soft rhythm she fell asleep to countless nights, arms wrapped around her, lips tender against her own._

_Gritting her teeth, she blindly scrambled, finding Raelle’s left hand and holding it tight._

_She felt the smooth gold of her wedding ring._

_Cold roughness scratched at her skin._

_Necrotic matter._

_The white translucent webbing formed along Raelle’s hand, creeping upward._

_Raelle didn’t react._

_She didn’t even know._

_Closing her eyes, touching her forehead to her wife’s, the mother tongue began to flow out of Scylla’s lips._

_Strong and steady, she spoke the words she never thought she would say to her wife, say with Raelle limp in her arms._

_Words she taught only in her most advanced class._

_Words meant to bring back a soul before it fully left, completely succumbed to the call of the Goddess._

_Her hand started to burn. Invisible flames ignited where she gripped Raelle, wind whipping around them, the floor beginning to shake._

_It felt like her flesh was on fire._

_The necrotic matter began to turn black, clinging to Raelle’s bloodless skin._

_Fighting against the witch calling out for her lover._

_The witch pushing and pulling against the forces of death itself, the power, the current, willing the cycle to reverse._

_Death becomes life becomes death again._

_Death becomes life._

_Her tongue continued to shape the words, mouth moving as she clearly muttered the Work._

_She was not going to lose Raelle._

_They were not going to take her away._

_Death was not claiming her._

_Not yet._

_Across the campus, in a closed off room in the necro building, the mycelium pulsated, Raelle’s face fading in and out of sight._

_Scylla was playing tug-o-war with Death._

_She was unknowingly playing against the mycelium._

Scylla quietly stood in the doorway, hands unsteady at her sides, fingers flexing to drive out the nervousness. Her thumb unconsciously swept across the simple band resting on her left ring finger. The same band that had been there ever since her wedding day. The one piece of jewelry she would never take off.

She’d passed by Henley’s room. Her daughter was awake, sitting up, back cushioned by thin pillows, eyes open.

Allison was perched at her side, carefully holding her hand, their faces bent towards each other.

With a painful breath, Scylla kept walking, not interrupting the young couple.

Her feet led her down the sterile hallway, the scent of bleach and disinfectant burning her nose.

The smell had become almost comforting over time. She was used to it.

At times, she could almost close her eyes and pretend.

Pretend everything was fine.

She was visiting Raelle at her clinic. She was taking one of her own classes into the lab on campus to analyze samples. 

She was young and dating a fixer who basically lived in the infirmary at Fort Salem.

Goddess, she hated this infirmary.

Hated the way boots squeaked on the floor and everything was so white and sterile.

She hated the way her family was here.

Her family.

Inhaling deeply, she pressed the pads of her fingers against her brow, staving off the emotions bubbling up inside. 

The pain.

The agony.

The guilt.

Sensing movement, Scylla blinked, eyes landing on the bed.

On Raelle.

The blonde glanced over at her, a tremulous smile, small, more a twitch of the lips, shimmered on her exhausted weathered pale face. 

Scylla smiled back, eyes glimmering.

“Ya found me.” Raelle whispered, voice scratchy, weak, barely audible in the quiet. “Always findin’ me.”

“Always,” Scylla slowly walked into the room, eyes never leaving Raelle’s face, her washed out blue eyes, “Haven’t divorced you yet.”

“Sex’s is too good.” Raelle swallowed roughly, eyelashes fluttering as she wet her cracked lips. She sank back onto the bed, words directed at the fixer standing next to her bedside, clipboard in hand, “Ya see that pretty girl over there?”

“Yeah, RC.”

“I married that girl.” She lethargically lifted her arm, flashing her wedding band, “Made it official an’ everythin’.” Her hand fell back to the bed, “Have you met my wife?”

Sgt. Larson chuckled, “Sure have, RC.” 

“Prettiest gal there is.” Raelle took a labored breath, “She’s been using me for sex for years.”

“How many years, Cap?”

“Don’ ask her. She can’ remember.”

Scylla rolled her eyes, lowering into the chair next to her wife, taking her hand, caressing the backs of her knuckles, “When’s our anniversary, Rae?”

“Today.”

“No.”

“Everyday’s our anniversary, baby.”

The sergeant gave a small nod, tucking the clipboard under her arm, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Scylla didn’t watch her go, concentrating on the woman before her.

The woman she loved.

The woman who was fighting to keep her eyes open, to fill her lungs with air.

Who failed at hiding the grimace each second wrought out of her.

“Hey, beautiful.” Raelle exhaled.

Her control wavered, “Hi, baby.”

“Hen?”

“She’s ok. Not even a bump.”

“Good.” 

She flipped her hand over, tracing an _S_ along the inside of her palm, “You’re going to be ok, too.”

They would figure it out.

“Everytime I think I’m dead, you find me.” Raelle mumbled. 

“You’re not dead, Raelle.”

“Sometimes...sometimes I think this is all a dream. Still in the desert.”

Scylla shook her head, “This is real. We’re real. Henley is real.”

Raelle’s voice dropped away, “I’m sorry, Scyl.”

“You can make it up to me later. Finally take me back to the beach like you’ve been promising for months.”

“I never stopped loving you. Not since I met you by that field. You were so beautiful. I wanted to stare at you all day.”

Scylla frowned, “Stop, Raelle. You are not doing this.”

“I married you.”

“Yes, you did. You married me.” Scylla leaned over, “Do you remember what you said when you proposed to me?” She clenched her jaw, “You said you would be with me. Always love me. And, that you were a fixer and I was a necro...and we’d figure it out. We’ll figure it out, Rae.”

Figure out why Raelle wasn’t getting better.

Why the injuries weren't fading like they had every time before.

“I’m sorry.”

“No.”

They weren’t doing this.

Raelle was not doing this.

Raelle kept going, “I’m so sorry, Scylla. I never...”

“No.” Scylla brushed her hair back from her forehead, cupping her jaw, “You are not apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“My fault. If I…”

“This wasn’t your fault. What happened was never your fault, baby. I promise. If you did anything wrong, it’s ok. I forgive you. I forgive you, Raelle.” She gasped quietly, “ _I’m_ sorry.

Raelle’s eyes slid closed, “I love you.”

“I love you.” she kissed her forehead, holding her lips there, breathing her in.

She was so sorry.

This was her fault.

If she hadn’t yelled at Raelle.

If she hadn’t let Henley leave, turn down university.

If she’d forced Raelle to let her go with her, not let her leave that night.

“I’m so sorry.”

Raelle weakly wrapped her hand around Scylla’s wrist, “Not your fault, either.”

Scylla squeezed her eyes shut against the tears.

Raelle pressed the pad of her thumb against the inside of her wrist, “Scyl?”

“Yeah, Raelle?” she croaked.

“You and Hen are still the best things to ever happen to me.”

“I love you.” Scylla tearfully replied.

“Hope so. You’re stuck with me.”

“Think I might be able to handle that.”

Raelle tapped her thumb, “Come on.”

“What?”

Raelle nudged herself over slightly, “Take a nap with me.”

“No, Raelle. I won’t fit.”

She didn’t want to hurt her.

Raelle hummed, “Naptime is the best time. Think I read that somewhere.”

Scylla bit her lip. She stared down, gaze tracing her wife’s features, the slant of her cheek, the fine white line near her jaw, the slope of her lips. 

“Please, Scyl. Rest for a bit.”

As carefully as possible, she crawled in next to her, curling up against her side.

* * *

The mycelium glowed, an incandescent silver in the darkened room.

Scylla stood before it, glaring, studying, challenging.

Izadora stepped up beside her, hair now the color of the moon, a few more wrinkles around her face but eyes still sharp, still full of wisdom and knowledge. “I am sorry for what happened, Scylla.”

What happened to those she cared about.

To the woman Izadora remembered laughing and grinning so joyously on the couple’s wedding day.

To the young soldier who Izadora remembered tripping up to her once as a toddler and showing off her little pentagram and mushroom filled picture book. 

It had taken one phone call, a few words, and Izadora was dusting off her boots, journeying back to the grounds she once served on, digging up old files and research that had yellowed with age. 

Scylla turned to her old teacher, no time for small talk or pleasantries. 

Not when she had to stay strong, “Why isn’t Raelle getting better?”

Why wasn’t the mycelium doing what it had done for years, ever since Raelle was a cadet and had touched it, connected with it.

Izadora took a moment before responding, “I cannot be certain. There is still so much we do not know about the mycelium or its connection to Raelle. The best conclusion is that...the connection is broken.”

“Broken?”

“Yes.” Izadora dipped her head, “Raelle died. Whatever connections she had were severed the moment her heart stopped beating.”

“Why did it let her…” she couldn’t say it. “Why didn’t it keep her alive?”

Like it had done in China.

A shrug, “Perhaps it didn’t need to anymore.”

“What?”

“The mycelium is sentient. It has its own...needs. Wants. Perhaps Raelle being alive was no longer one of them.” She tilted her head in thought, “Raelle has aged normally. Has not shown any other outward manifestations of a difference in ability to heal herself beyond when she was near certain death when younger. She was still able to bruise. To bleed.” Her eyebrow twitched, “Have a healthy child who seems to have no unique ability to heal.”

“Except now.” Scylla whispered.

“Except now.” She looked at the mycelium, “The symbiotic relationship was something we never fully understood, no matter how much we attempted to study it. But, the mycelium seemed to not need Raelle to survive. Now that you brought her back...it is a viable situation where the mycelium no longer will be there to maintain a connection that has been broken.”

“Why can’t she heal? Why can’t the fixers fully heal her?”

“I’m not a fixer, Scylla. You know this. But, I suspect it is what you have already determined.” She looked at her former student, “Without the mycelium, Raelle is normal. A witch who has fought in the War, endured years of fighting, of injuries, of bodily trauma, and who spent her life fixing others. Her body simply isn’t strong enough, and the art of fixing only goes so far with a body that is not capable of sustaining the overwhelming internal trauma Raelle took on. This all may come down to how strong Raelle truly is. Mentally and physically.” 

* * *

“Hen, can you drive?”

“What?” Henley looked up from where she had been pacing in her room to see Allison leaning casually against her door frame.

“Drive. A car.” Allison launched a familiar pair of keys at her, “Your mom asked me to bring your car around.”

Henley fumbled the catch, the keys clanging on the floor, “Why don’t you do it?”

Why was her mom asking Allison to get the car?

A shrug, “It’s your family’s car. Think your Aunt ordered no one to touch it except a Ramshorn-Collar.”

Henley’s eyes narrowed, “You’re lying.”

A sigh, “Just drive it, Henley. Or, you could keep walking in a damn circle in your room, ignoring everyone, until the floor falls out from under you.”

Henley glared at her.

Allison didn’t flinch.

“My mama is still in the infirmary, and no one is telling me anything, and you think it’s funny?”

“No. I think you should drive your car for your mom.”

Henley vibrated with anxious anger, masking the fear that occupied her mind day and night, “Too busy having sex with another girl to do it?”

Allison teeth grit, “I haven’t been anywhere except with you or your mom.”

“You don’t have to. I never asked you to.”

“No.” Allison stepped into the room, “You didn’t. You haven’t asked for a damn thing, Henley. I’m not here because you _asked_ me to. I’m here because I _want_ to be here. Because I love you, and I love your parents, and we are going to drive that damn car for your mom.”

Henley tried to glare. Tried to put as much rage and disgust and hatred in it as humanely possible.

It lasted for half a minute before it crumbled away.

“I don’t know what it’s like for you.” A note of helplessness wavered in her otherwise firm steady commanding tone, “But, you’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. You don't go to training. You don't go anywhere. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you have to stop, Henley. Your parents would tell you the same damn thing. Until they’re able to, I’m going to. Say whatever you want. We need to drive your car over to the infirmary. It’s parked by your Aunt Abigail’s office. We’ll bring it over.” She turned her body, opening a path for Henley to walk out, “Then, we’re going to get lunch, and you are going to tell me about why the mess hall should serve chocolate chip pancakes, and I’ll make you some of that tasteless chamomile tea you like. If you’re lucky, I’ll remind you that _your mama_ made her department include people you’re supposed to talk to when she worked here, and I don’t know what that means or what that’s like, but you’re not talking to me, and I know you’re not talking to Skylar, or anyone else, so maybe you’ll talk to one of them.”

Allison walked up to Henley and crouched down, scooping up the keys, “Don’t crash. I know who taught you to drive, and I’ve been in a car with you.”

Henley’s hands shook, “Allison,”

“Let’s go.” Allison pressed the keys into her hand, “I’ll get one of your Aunts to order you to, Ramshorn-Collar. Col. Moffett wouldn’t mind.”

Henley’s hand closed around the cool metal, “I just want to know they’re ok.”

“I know.” She gave a quick smile, “Let’s get the car.”

They slowly made their way out of the room and down the hall, Allison at the younger witch’s side. Henley kept her head down, gripping the keys tightly, lips pursed.

She had the sudden urge to drive the car straight to the infirmary, and not stop. Blast inside and search until she found her mama. Until someone told her something.

Like the one time she tried to find her, only to be stopped by two upperclass students and an apologetic officer who informed her Maj. Bellweather had sent specific orders that a certain section of the medical building was off limits...and Henley Ramshorn-Collar was, as a soldier assigned to the necromancy divison and not the fixer units, to be allowed on site only when receiving medical attention.

When Henley stormed into her Aunt Abigail's office, the older witch did not back down. Henley was to be recovering from her ordeal and preparing to return to training and class. Her parents were fine, and she needed to focus her energies on her own health and catching up on what she had missed while away.

That she continued to miss because, even though she was healthy, she wasn't cleared to return to training. Maj. Bellweather's orders.

Henley didn't believe her when she asked if that's what her parents wanted. Wanted her kept away from the medical building. Away from training. Away from them.

Abigail said yes.

Abigail had a tell when she lied.

The duo walked out of the building, Allison pushing open and holding the door for her counterpart. Henley took a few steps before picking up her head.

And stopping.

Wait.

There was a car parked in front of her barracks.

Her parents’ car.

What?

“I still don’t remember when we had two kids, Scyl.”

Henley froze.

“I’m surprised you even remember when we had the one. You were ready to pass out.”

Henley swallowed roughly, too afraid to look. 

“You sure that’s our kid? She looks taller.”

“If you wore your glasses, you might be able to see.”

That’s all it took.

Henley whipped around.

There, off to the side, were her parents.

“MOM! MAMA!” Henley bolted over to them, almost tripping over her own excited feet as she threw herself into their arms.

Scylla gracefully slid in front of Raelle, taking the brunt of the impact, “Henley. Honey.” 

“Mom.” Henley sobbed, tears already falling. “Mama.”

“Hey, kiddo.” 

Arms enveloped Henley, holding her close.

Henley buried her face in Scylla’s shoulder, the mother not reacting as her shirt became soaked with tears.

“I love you.” Henley whimpered, “I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too, Hen.” 

“You’re ok?” She lifted her head, haze coated eyes searching for Raelle, “You’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok.” Raelle smiled tremulously. 

“But...you were...and Mom…”

“We’re ok.” Raelle assured her. “I promise, Henley. Your mom and I are ok.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“Henley,” Scylla rubbed her back, “What matters is that you’re ok. You’re ok.”

“No...you…”

Raelle spoke up, “You’re our daughter, Henley. Ok? You’re not getting rid of us.” She sucked in a shaky breath, hiding a grimace, “Now, I heard something about lunch, and your mom promised I could actually get a cookie this time.”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah.”

Henley held on to them tighter.

Scylla kissed the crown of her head, “We love you more than anything, Henley. We’re ok. It’s ok.”

Henley nodded, slowly pulling away, wiping harshly at her reddened face, “Ok.”

“Ok.”

Henley bit her lip, her breath stuttering as she finally really looked at her parents.

Scylla looked exhausted. Her normally shining hair was limp, face strained, the tiny wrinkles around her eyes and mouth more prominent. 

Raelle…

Raelle was subtly leaning on her wife, face pale, dressed warmly, bundled up in a worn faded sweatshirt that was too heavy for the weather, a cane clutched in her hand. 

“Mama?”

“It’s ok, Henley.” 

“No. You…”

“Hen.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Henley bit out. “Not again. Not...no more lies.” Her jaw worked furiously, terrified, “We don’t lie to people we love.”

Raelle’s face dropped.

“Henley,” Scylla started.

“I did this. This is my fault.” She was fine...and her mama wasn’t. Her parents weren’t ok. She’d been hurt but now she wasn’t.

Because of them.

Because of her moms.

“No.” Raelle was stern, “Don’t ever say that. I’m going to be fine.”

“Your mama is still recovering.” Scylla soothed. 

Henley swayed on her feet.

“Henley.” Raelle looked her in the eye, “We are your parents. It’s our job to take care of you when we can. I’m a fixer. I knew what I was doing. Your mom and I know what we're doing." She silently urged her to listen, "From what I heard, you saved people. You protected people. I’m so _damn_ _proud_ of you, we both are incredibly proud, but don’t _ever_ do that again.”

Cold heat billowed in her chest, “Mama.”

Scylla looped her arm around Raelle’s waist, “Let’s get something to eat and talk, ok?”

A hand brushed against Henley’s digging the keys loose, “I’ll drive. Cafe on Market Place?”

Henley grabbed Allison’s hand before it could disappear. She tore her eyes away from her parents to see the taller witch offering her a supportive smile.

With a wink, Allison twirled the keys on her finger and nudged Henley towards the car.

* * *

_Raelle rummaged around in the refrigerator, pushing things around like she didn’t know every single item that was stored on the cool shelves. Pursing her lips in thought, she let her gaze bounce between the last bottle of ale Glory had sent them from some small witch run brewery just north of Salem and...wait...was that a tiny stack of cookies behind the milk?_

_Were those Lucy’s cookies?_

_What the hell were they doing in the refrigerator?_

_And, since when did they have leftover cookies?_

_It was either Henley or Scylla._

_The traitors._

_Shaking her head at how her family conspired against her to not let her get one of the sweet succulent morsels her hawk of a receptionist made and always let her girls have while staring Raelle down if she even motioned to taste one, Raelle grabbed the bottle of ale and shut the door._

_She wondered if they were chocolate chip or sugar, though._

_Twisting the bottle in her hand, she chewed on her bottom lip._

_Now, she really wanted a cookie._

_She was an adult. She was married! Had a house! She went to work!_

_She could have a cookie if she wanted to._

_Cool hands smoothed around her hips, ticklish fingers dipping beneath her shirt to sweep over a warm sliver of skin as a soft body pressed into her back. A hot breath blew against her ear, drawing out a shiver, her eyes closing briefly at the feel of her wife suddenly surrounding her, “Those are for Henley’s lunch tomorrow.”_

_“Didn’t know our kid was an ale drinker.” she gulped lowly as blunt nails dragged across her belly._

_The blonde could feel the smirk against the shell of her ear and tilted her forehead against the refrigerator door, hands shaking the slightest bit as the tip of a tongue traced down to bite gently at her earlobe, “They’re chocolate chip.”_

_“Damn it, Scylla.” she couldn’t hold back the quiver in her words. Fingertips danced along the waistband of her jeans, “My favorite.”_

_“I know.”_

_Her breaths stuttered when a thumb ticked over the button of her jeans, “Scyl,”_

_“Put the bottle down.” Scylla whispered, lightly kissing just below her ear._

_Raelle blinked. Goddess, that felt good. “W-What?”_

_A soft chuckle accompanied a hand removing the bottle from her grasp and leaning around to push it onto the nearby counter._

_Raelle might have stopped breathing when a pair of breasts ghosted along her back and hips nudged into her. Wetting her lips, she fought to clear her head, “You’re playing dirty.”_

_“Henley is at a friend’s house till dinner.” Scylla snapped open the button she had been fiddling with. She curled her hands around Raelle’s hips and turned her around, urging her back against the refrigerator._

_“Power move to protect the cookies.” Raelle’s lashes fluttered, her skin flushed and hands reaching out to grip the hem of Scylla’s shirt, holding on more than anything._

_Scylla leaned close, lips a hairsbreadth from the blonde’s, so close but not touching, challenging lilt to her throaty reply, “Think you can handle it? Or is it too much for you?”_

_“Whatever you want,” she mumbled, whatever sense of control she might have thought of having gone in half a second._

_The zipper eased down and Raelle’s jeans and briefs were pushed down as Scylla sank down to her knees, blue eyes locked on Raelle’s, “Spread your legs for me.”_

_Raelle’s head snapped back as a mouth pressed against her witch’s mark._

Scylla closed the door behind them, Raelle hobbling a bit, still not fully used to her cane. Her movements were a half step off, uncoordinated, a limp and a drag and a heaviness where her hand tightly gripped the handle and her feet attempted to relearn the pacing and rhythm of movement.

It had been a quiet drive back home. Only the muted whispers from the radio and the hum of the car providing any source of noise between the two. Scylla kept glancing over, watching as Raelle alternated between staring down at the hands clasped in her lap or the passing scenery, a hint of contemplation peeking out as she unconsciously rubbed her hands together.

Scylla bit her lip, setting down the bag and depositing the keys in the little bowl. Their home was silent. On the edge of peaceful.

If she closed her eyes and held her breath, she could almost hear distant laughter and boisterously charming banter.

She kept her eyes open.

She couldn’t fall into that.

Not now.

Head down and eyes averted she motioned to go toward the kitchen. Raelle would probably want something to drink or...something.

As she went to step around the blonde, the fixer hovering ahead of her, a hand shot out, thin fingers encircling her wrist, calluses scratching against her porcelain skin.

Scylla stopped, biting her lip harder as it shivered.

The palm smoothed down, covering the back of her hand, fingers dipping into wrap around and hold.

She barely choked down the sob, sudden and intense.

A gentle tug was all it took.

_No matter what. I’ll always be here for you._

Scylla spun, pushing into her wife, inhaling sharply as she cupped the nape of her neck, felt the fine hairs that tickled her fingertips.

Swallowed as their faces pressed together, noses brushing, breaths mingling, eyes sliding closed as they stood there.

Her lips trembled, body hot and cold and wanting to cry, wanting to yell, wanting to touch her and hold her and never let her go.

_I’ll always come back to you. Because, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than by your side._

Raelle nuzzled her cheek.

Scylla felt a tear roll down from the eyes she adored, painting both of their faces.

With the tiniest of tilts, she sought out her lover’s mouth. 

_There’s nothing else I believe in except that you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I will do anything to make you happy._

The moment lips touched her own, the barrier broke.

A sob spilled from her lips as they kissed. Wet and messy and goddess, this was the woman she loved. She would always love.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

It felt like perfection.

_I promise to never leave you. I promise I will always love you. I promise to spend every single day of my life letting you know how much you mean to me, because I wouldn’t have a life without you. You are my life._

Their mouths met again and again, hot and shaky, like two kids kissing for the first time.

Like two lovers reconnecting.

Like two souls finding each other.

They stumbled blindly, colliding with the couch. Raelle dropped down, dragging Scylla with her.

Scylla lowered herself onto her lap, straddling her thighs. 

Hungry, desperate, so full of emotion neither could feel anything but the storm swirling in their minds, they grasped at each other. Scylla’s shirt tugged over her head, blindly tossed aside, and Raelle’s shirt followed a second later. Scylla rocked back into Raelle. Raelle pushed up against her.

Fingers fumbled along the waistline of Scylla’s jeans, skimming up to run along the expanse of her belly, trace her ribs, feel the way her back dipped along her spine. 

The world sped up, spinning faster and faster as hands touched everywhere, 

The button of Scylla’s jeans popped open and the zipper slipped down.

They both shuddered.

The world slow down to a crawl.

Scylla gazed into her wife’s eyes, the kiss breaking as a warm hand hovered along her lower belly.

Hesitant.

Asking.

Waiting.

Unsure.

Scylla carefully slid her hand down. Never looking away from Raelle, she took her hand, guiding it past her underwear, breath hitching as her wife cautiously touched her, stroked her.

“Ok?” Raelle whispered.

Ok?

With one word, she asked so much.

Scylla tangled her hand in Raelle’s hair, nodding, “Always.”

Raelle blinked, the corners of her eyes soft and her mouth glistening as her eyes, her deep endless sky blue eyes, reflected everything that one word meant to them.

Scylla hissed as Raelle dipped inside.

The pace was slow. Scylla rolled her hips, the feel of her wife inside of her, of Raelle filling her, making her feel whole, overpowering. 

_When I thought I lost you, it was the worst moment of my life._

Raelle gasped, rocking up into her.

_Because, I don’t want to lose you. I want to go where you go. Always._

“I love you.” Scylla rasped. “I love you. I promise.”

_I want to hear your stupid jokes and dance with you under the stars._

“I know.” Raelle breathed out. Mouths met, “I love you.”

_I want to hold your hand and protect you from a world that doesn’t always want us. I want to protect you from anything that would hurt you. Whether it’s in this world or the next._

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Scylla wept. 

_I will always be grateful that you smiled at me that day by the practice field. That you skipped your first day of training._

“Me too, Scyl.” Raelle kissed her jaw.

_You gave me a family. You gave me hope. You gave me something I thought I would never have._

Scylla felt the familiar coiling inside, her belly clenching, her breaths becoming shorter.

_I promise to be with you, at your side, forever. I know what it is like to think I would have to be without you, live a life without you in it. That’s not a life at all. I choose to live._

Scylla came with a hard gasp, eyes slamming closed and a cry escaping her lips. 

_I choose you._

* * *

Scylla propped herself on her elbow, tousled hair framing her face as she soothed her hand across Raelle’s brow. She gently brushed ruffled tendrils away from her face, soft and warm. She let her touch trickle down, sweeping along her temple and outlining the curve of her jaw. Raelle stared up at her from where she was spread out on their couch, lazy and spent, passion melting into an emotion that forced Scylla to clench her jaw as her heart quickened and her stomach swooped.

The older witch forced a smile onto her face, battling back her own feelings rising within, tone faking playfulness, “Guess you’re feeling better.”

Raelle didn’t join in. She kept staring up at her. She curled a hand around Scylla’s bare hip, thumb swirling against a tiny patch of skin, tracing the jut of her hip bone, “You’re so beautiful.”

The playful smile dropped. 

Raelle lifted her head, taking her time, moving as slowly as she could, giving Scylla a chance to duck, pull away, do anything other than join her.

Scylla held her breath, letting it out in a relieved sigh as the tenderest of kisses, little more than a slight brush of lips against her own, whispered against her mouth. 

Memories of salva and sneaking around and promises to give the other as much time as they needed as lights sparkled around them in the dark flashed in her mind.

She gingerly kissed Raelle back, tasting love and comfort and sorry and forever in the sweetness of her lips.

She tilted her head, ending the kiss, as the acrid bitter taste of regrets and guilt and shame burned the back of her throat and coated her tongue.

“Scylla?”

Her hand fell to Raelle’s shoulder, edge of her palm covering the scar over Raelle’s heart, “You were gone.”

She felt Raelle tense beneath her. 

“You were gone, and I wasn’t there. You left me. You left, Raelle.”

Her hand slid up Scylla’s back, her arm holding her close as her palm pressed against her spine.

“You walked away...and I let you.” Her face threatened to crumble, “I let you.”

“No,” Raelle shook her head, “No, Scyl.”

She couldn’t stop the words that had raged in her heart, black and harsh and full of cutting sharp edges, “You thought I stopped loving you, and you walked away from me. You didn’t come back, Raelle! You didn’t come back, and...and I waited. I waited, but you weren’t there.” Her face flinched, “I wasn’t there.” She did everything she could not to fall apart, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Scylla,” Raelle cupped the side of her throat, thumb holding her chin, “No. No, baby, stop.”

“I hate you so much for leaving me. For walking away. You’re not supposed to walk away.” Scylla choked out, “I didn’t tell you I love you. You left, and I didn’t tell you. How were you supposed to know if I didn’t tell you? You thought…”

“I love you.” Raelle firmly interrupted her. “I love you so damn much, Scyl. So damn much. You and Henley...I love you two more than anything. Anything.”

“I was angry, and I said things...I didn’t mean them. I didn’t blame you. I didn’t.”

Raelle gulped, “We both did. I did, too. I...goddess, Scylla.”

“I lost you.”

“No. Never. You could never lose me.” 

“Your heart stopped beating. You walked out the door, and your heart stopped beating, Raelle.”

Raelle licked her lips, mouth trembling, “I have loved you since I was eighteen. I am always going to love you.” Her voice caught, and she paused, “I chose you. Stop...stop blaming yourself because I have a family I love. I want you. I want us. I want our family. That is never going to change. You hurt me. You...you can really hurt me, sometimes. But, we both know I’ve hurt you. I’ve hurt you so much, Scyl. So many times. But, you stayed with me. You stayed. I stayed. I choose you, adn you choose me. You are my wife, and I am yours. Right? None of that five year bullshit.” A tear clung to her lashes, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I’m so sorry, Scyl.”

Scylla kissed her.

“I love you.” Scylla confessed.

“No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Another kiss.

“We’re ok. Right?” Raelle laid her hand atop Scylla’s on her shoulder, “We’re going to be ok, Scylla.”

Scylla gave a tiny smile, “Yeah, Raelle. We’re going to be ok.”

Raelle grinned crookedly, “Good. ‘cause the sex was still pretty great.”

Scylla laughed wetly.

“Let’s go to the beach.”

“Ok. Ok, let’s go to the beach.

**Author's Note:**

> Well...there you have it. Good? Bad? Try again but do better?


End file.
